After the Fall
by KhaleesiStormborn
Summary: Uther's marriage to the barbarian princess, Merlynn, would prove more dangerous than any of them could've imagine. Especially for Prince Arthur, his son. "Many will die from this union, Bringer of a New Age, but is it for the best intentions?" AU.
1. Chapter 1: The Arrangement

Prompt by _Giselle Pink (Sorry, but these ideas have caused inspiration to flourish). _

Okay, a few things: one, there _was _a Great Purge, but not all the dragons had died out - well, there is more than just Kilgharrah. It's AU, to my fanfiction; Uther's alive, Morgana's not evil, and ... you'll see the other things I've adapted. There is a lot of blood and violence, a little different from Merlin, obviously.

Summary: Quohra and Camelot have been at war due to a misunderstanding. Uther, fed up with losing so many men, consults with Balinor and asks for a peace treaty. But, there is a bit of an addition to this union - the marriage of Uther and Balinor's daughter, the princess Merlynn.

Pairings: You'll just have to see - things will develop in due time.

More things happen, but I'll leave it to _you _to read and watch.

PG13+ ... for now ;)

* * *

**CHAPTER 1 - THE ARRANGEMENT. **

Uther stared at the map on his desk with annoyance, elbows resting either side of the fraying parchment. The whole of Albion splayed across the map in detailed ink designs, from the high frost mountains to the west, to the Summer islands in the north, near Camelot, the Great Seas of Meredor in the far east and the harsh deserts in the south. His eyes lingered on the south. Originally, there were five kingdoms: Camelot, Mercia, Caerleon, Essetir and Nemeth. Then, more and more kingdoms were formed, lands were taken through blood and steel; Odinsland, Gawant, Daobeth, Tir-Mor, and many more. But, the Five remained as the largest, and most active kingdoms in the whole of Albion. The others spread further than Albion, across the Great Seas and toward other islands.

But, there was one kingdom on his mind. Quohra, the barbarian city to the south. Barbarians indeed, he mused to himself. The Quohrans were fierce warriors, men and women alike, who didn't back down from a battle, no matter the disadvantage; and, rarely were they at the disadvantage. Camelot and Quohra had been at each other's throats over the last few months; so many had died, so much blood on both hands. And Uther knew it would only get worse. Apparently, there were twenty _thousand _warriors hidden in the Southern Plains to be used at King Balinor's disposal, sitting in tribes and cities and mountains throughout Quohra.

There was also the rumor of _magic _fluently spread across the desert kingdom, but... he would consider _that _later.

The war had begun with Camelot soldiers who traveled across the border into the desert and were attacked by a vicious blood tribe, everything but their bones discovered - in conclusion, Balinor did not want to apologize and Uther was too hard-headed and stubborn in his belief that it was the barbarian king's fault for the whole matter. However, despite that, he wanted the war to end and, as it turned out, so did Balinor. They discussed through constant letters and messengers and finally came to a peace treaty. The war would no longer continue and their allegiance could be advantageous to the both of them.

Together, they could tear down any kingdom that threatened to bring them down.

"Father, you wished to speak with me?" Arthur quietly entered his chambers. How proud he was of him, his only son. He knew Arthur would not be too keen at an arranged marriage, a new mother, especially one who was no doubt younger than he was. But, he would have to get over it; Uther had.

"Yes, Arthur. Take a seat, please." Uther had to tread this lightly; he still needed to speak with King Balinor, and he would then have to make the long venture to the Southern Plains to meet him in person. When he was seated, he began, "You know we are at war with Quohra, yes? One hundred men, we've already lost, and there are rumors that other kingdoms are planning to attack our kingdom while we're vulnerable," Uther admitted. "So, finally, after much discussion, King Balinor and I have come to a peace treaty."

"That is great, father. So we don't have to fight those savages any longer?"

"Correct. But, that is not all." He wanted to tell his son before he announced it to the whole of Camelot. "I have been thinking, and I have come to know that the union between our kingdoms will be influential to our whole lives. So, to seal it, I am to marry Balinor's eldest daughter, princess Merlynn," he said, watching as Arthur's eyes widened in shock.

"What?" he exclaimed.

"Arthur, I was to suggest that _you _marry Merlynn, but you are not of age just of yet. Royals do not marry for love, we marry for power, for money, for union."

"You married my mother for love," Arthur accused.

His father's eyes darkened. "Yes, I know. But, this is what's best for the kingdom. You and a few others will go to Quohra and meet with the king and my new bride, then close the deal." No longer was he being calm, or understanding; he was angry.

"But - but she's a savage! She cannot be queen!"

"She is of rightful blood and it will happen, Arthur. Now, leave me."

**[][][][][][]**

Arthur was beyond angry - he was seething, irritated and upset. He did not want to have a barbarian for a step-mother; she probably wasn't even of noble blood. Did savages even have blood of noble rights? The woman could stand on all fours for all he knew - what if she were a cannibal? Barbarians were rough creatures; they raped and pillaged and murdered without regard. Despite she was a woman, and incapable of rape, there were other things, rumors, that those _creatures _did in their desert. Some even married within blood - well, those were the stories. He didn't want to know the truth, for he didn't care; secretly he did, but if he were to dwell on it, he would simply go mad. Arthur sighed, and dismissed his servant, who bowed respectfully and hurried out, knowing at his master was otherwise ready to punch something.

There was a sudden knock at his door, then it opened without regard for his response.

"I will speak with no one," he shouted in frustration.

"Oh, Arthur. Please, stop pouting." Instead of comforting him, as a friend _should, _she only pushed his buttons further. Morgana let the door slam shut as she made her way over to him, the bangles on her wrists jingling with every step. Her hand touched his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "What's wrong?"

"Didn't you hear? My father is going to marry a savage!" he hissed.

"Oh, wow. Really? Did Uther tell you this today?" she asked. Arthur nodded. "I'm sure the girl isn't going to be _that _bad. Besides, their allegiance will be helpful in the war we're currently facing." Morgana walked to the window, and gazed out of it with grey-blue eyes. "Gods, can you believe it? Albion used to be so peaceful. What happened?"

Arthur sighed. "The kings are greedy bastards, that's why. All they care about is land ownership, and Camelot is one of the largest, populated kingdoms in all of Albion. Everyone wants some fraction of it - so, they're all quarreling with each other, and us, all at the same time. It's ridiculous, but we're powerless to stop it."

"Ah, but now we have Quohra - or we will, once Uther and the princess get married."

"Maybe you should marry her," he spat.

Morgana chuckled. "I probably would," she teased. "But I can't; I'm just the king's ward. I know this might seem awful at first, but it is your father's duty. I'll come with you - I've always wanted to see the Southern Plains." A grin of excitement formed on her cherry red lips.

"I'm glad someone's happy," Arthur grumbled miserably.

* * *

_So... this is what I've got. A new story, an AU multi-chapter story that is, haha. What did you think? It may seem a bit unimpressive and short at first, but it _will _go somewhere. I'm just trying to bring everything together; and, I'm still working out _where _exactly I'm going with this... so, hopefully, I get what I'm hoping for and this _should _curb your interest to read my stories until season 5 comes out, eh? I'm going to add, hopefully, elements from the one-shots you guys have given me, just so everyone's happy. :)_

_Please review and tell me what you thought so far! x_


	2. Chapter 2: Quohra

_Lovely response, guys! So you like, eh? Haha. _

_This is going to continue... I don't know what's exactly going to happen, but I've got rough drafts in my head :P _

_Erm... so yeah. Onward!_

* * *

**CHAPTER 2 - QUOHRA.**

It took a whole month to travel to Quohra. And what a _long, _tiring month it was; twenty men, and two women, riding on horseback while transferring from the cool forests and green scenery into a red wasteland. A horse had collapsed along the journey, and a man left behind with it to return the animal back to the kingdom when it regained it's footing. In addition to this, they were slowly, but surely, running out of food. Arthur had never dealt with such a ride before; that, and the heat. He didn't know how the savages could handle the piercing sun blazing down on their backs every day. The sun burnt his flesh through his tunic and chainmail - which, he began to wish he did not wear in the first place.

Exhaustion was a heavy, familiar burden now. No matter how much water he consumed, how many breaks he allowed he and his men (and women) to have, he was still dehydrated and craving sweet, cold liquid and rest.

Morgana wiped some sweat from her brow and moaned slightly. The Southern Plains seemed to be endless, completely and utterly. At the beginning, it had just been sand and desert, a harsh terrain (Morgana still had the rashes on her arms from the sand in the wind to prove it), but the further they rode, the deeper they treaded into Quohra, they reached grass - some green, others the shade of wheat, and some even _blue - _that rolled across the horizon. Tall hills, cliffs and mountains, sat either side of them, either small dots or overwhelming sizes that loomed over riding party.

She had never seen anything like it before; despite Arthur's obvious discomfort and reluctance, she thought it was the most gorgeous sight of all. Camelot's deep forests could not compare to such a magical land. It was such a privilege to be able to see such wonders. Perhaps she and Uther's new bride could trade places? The thought amused her, and she giggled aloud, forcing a strange look from her chambermaid.

They passed tribes thoughout the whole journey, some in small villages, others large, moving travellers that walked and walked and never seemed to stop. Morgana could see that Arthur was terrified of them; he would stare, and not stop until they were long out of sight. She was sure that they would never attack. The leaders would either call for them to halt, or they would leave their tents, brandishing their weapons and eying them with suspicion. It scared her, too, but she was never one to simply believe the rumors of others; she would have to meet the person before she judged them.

And, while the men looked mighty and terrifying, some looked starved, as did the women and children. The passing travellers moreso than the villagers; she wondered why they never stopped walking, why they carried sacks on their backs. Morgana wanted to help every single one of them, hide the ribs and spines so clearly revealed through their taut flesh - especially the children. She offered a few of the people some of her food rations, which they accepted with bows and almost tears as they handed them off to their children and squeezed her leg.

Arthur would curl his lip at her, but she could see the remorse in his eyes, the sympathy for the slowly dying people. He was a prat, but he was not cruel. So, begrudgingly he, along with the rest of the men, handed over their food to them. A group of thirty, in particular, bowed to their knees in the sand and sobbed out their thanks. Morgana smiled at Arthur, proud of him, and they continued on. She would make sure that, when Camelot and Quohra aligned, there would be more food and supplies for all the people. Of course, their own villages' food was scarce, but they survived. Quohra did not communicate with the kingdoms of the north; the only place they traded _other _than within their own and with the outlying islands in the sea, was the east.

"Are you alright, my lady?" her chambermaid and loyal friend, Guinevere - who was called Gwen more often than not - asked in concern. "Would you like some more water?"

"No, I am alright, Gwen," she replied with a reassuring smile.

She nodded, and turned her gaze back to the grassy horizon. Morgana sighed, and tugged at the collar of her tunic; her clothing was much too thick for the heat - she wished she had worn her thin silk gown instead of her heavy breeches that encased her legs with sweat, and her tunic that stuck to her skin. She missed her silk gowns. She could not wait to get off the horse, into the city, and change into them. But, she could not dwell on it; what was on her mind was the ache in her thighs and the hunger adorning her belly fiercely.

Morgana could not wait to enter Vamos, the central city of Quohra where King Balinor lived, and fill her belly, then take a much needed bath. She smelt of body odor and sweat and other unpleasant aromas, and she hated it. The kingdom of Quohra, from Geoffrey of Monmouth's knowledge, was separated into many different cities and tribes. Apparently, in between the many cities, there were thousands of tribes scattered around, all ready to be used at King Balinor's disposal. All were based on blood, and power - loyalty came to those who deserved it, who fought for it.

There was also a rumor that dragons were based in a small island off to the north of Quohra, but she was unsure if they were actually true. However, Morgana couldn't help but get excited at the prospect of a _dragon _being nearby; she had always wanted to see a dragon. They always interested her. She smiled at the thought.

"What are you smiling about? What _is there _to smile about?" Arthur grumbled.

"How could you not be the least bit happy, Arthur?" she retorted. "Do you not see how wondrous this place _is? _So beautiful, so untouched -"

"So boiling bloody hot," he snapped.

Lancelot, his right hand man and closest companion, chuckled and shook his head. "Arthur, ignore the heat for now. Just take a look and _see _how lovely this place is."

"Oh, I'm sorry Lancelot, have you suddenly turned into a woman?" Arthur jested. He was then punched in the shoulder.

"I don't know who I feel sorry for more: you, or the new queen. She'll have to put up with _you_ as a step-son," he said.

Morgana burst out laughing, which caused the prince to glare in her direction - it only made her laugh harder. "Lancelot, you make me laugh! I must apologise to the princess before the wedding ceremony, and tell her to be on her guard."

"Shut up, Morgana."

**[][][][][][]**

They finally reached the city of Vamos. Surprisingly, it was rather large, considering it harboured barbarians. The gate was already open, allowing them entry into the city; then, all Arthur could see were hundreds of tents and stalls and, standing before them, were the people. They watched the incoming party with curious eyes as they passed through the open street before the second gate, which lead into the castle structure. Morgana waved at them kindly; she wanted to search through the markets, to try exotic foods and buy trinkets and clothes that were only available to Quohra. Some women and children returned the gesture, awkward but friendly.

"Come on," Arthur muttered. "We have a king to meet."

"Ugh, you're so irritating," she hissed, but nudged her horse into a faster walk.

They passed through the gate. The inner part of the city was much more developed; women in silk dresses and large pieces of jewelry which caught the sunlight, dancers who performed in the street for all, men in hard leather and blades as tall as their bodies and trays of dishes they had never seen before being served around. Behind them stood one very large building which _could _be considered a castle to the Quohran's but, in Arthur's eyes, it could never compare to Camelot's glory. Morgana's eyes widened as she dismounted her horse, entranced by the whole scene - she _had _to ask where the women bought their gowns, for she wanted one in each and every color possible.

On top of the staircase (which, Arthur pointed out in his thoughts, was not as tall as Camelot's again), stood a man. He had thick, long hair and a beard to mach that covered his neck; but, he was not fat by any means. Instead, he had a body of muscle, tall and strong. He had a broadsword attached to his hip and wore thin material robes instead of the armor of his guards and the other men in Quohra seemed to prefer. Arthur could only assume that _this _was King Balinor.

He dismounted, shifted uncomfortably in his heated metal chain-mail, and approached the king. "Hello, King Balinor. It is an honor," he said respectfully.

"You must be Prince Arthur, then. I was about to say you looked a bit young to be a king with a son of twenty two," Balinor responded with a broad smile. "An honor it is. Welcome to Vamos, and to Quohra. Is it to your liking?"

"A bit hot, my lord, but nonetheless beautiful," he lied through his teeth.

"Ah, yes. The heat is a burden that we must bare, but it does not digress from the wonder of the kingdom," he was obviously very proud of his kingdom. Morgana knew he had all right to be.

"It is truly," she spoke up without even realizing. She blushed as Balinor's gaze turned to her. "I am jealous that you are able to see this beauty every day."

"Words of honesty; I like that," the King of Quohra stated. "You are, my dear?"

"Morgana; the king's ward," she said with a nervous smile.

"You will get along famously with my daughter. Where _is _she, then? Mordred?" he turned to his - what looked like - son. He was surprisingly pale for a body who lived in a desert terrain, but from the look of him, she had a feeling he was not like the other children. He didn't seem to enjoy the sun very much, for he remained in the shaded area of the patio.

"Probably training again," Mordred answered with a shrug.

Balinor sighed, and cursed. "My daughter is a warrior in the making."

"Savage," Arthur whispered, but it was only Morgana who could hear him. She slapped his arm and sent him a warning look.

"Well, you will meet her soon enough, I guess," he chuckled. "Please, I will get my servants to show you to your rooms, and you can get some rest, explore the city. When you're ready, Arthur, we can discuss our plans."

[][][][][][]

"You will lose!"

"Ha! As if I will lose to you, princess!"

Merlynn grit her teeth and fought against her opponent with her long, double-edged blade, twirling gracefully like a dancer on her feet to block the strike made with the oncoming broadsword. She used the blunt of her weapon to knock the other woman's out of her hand and leaped, forcing her to the ground and straddling her waist; the right side of her double-edge pressed lightly, yet firmly against her opponent's throat. Her dirty dark hair fell over their faces as she grinned triumphantly.

"It seems that you've lost to me," she laughed.

"Fine, I give. Just put that blade away from me - I don't trust it," the woman grunted.

"You're such a wuss, Isolde."

Elegantly, she got to her feet in a single motion by bouncing back on her heels, then stepped a few paces away from Isolde to allow her room to stand. After Merlynn hooked her blade to a sheath attached to her back, she ran her fingers through her warm hair and grimaced at the feel. She needed a bath, for sure. She was covered in sweat and dirt and blood, and soon she would meet her future son. Which was odd, because she was still only a girl. Seventeen, and to have a son? Preposterous! Her mouth twisted bitterly in reaction to her thoughts; her? To marry a man from the North?

She loved her home in Quohra, with the sun upon her back and the family she had built. This was her home, as was it the home to the warriors and the barbarian fighters and the dragon-lords. It was where the honest, true men were born, where they fought - not for land, or money, but for loyalty and for belief. And, when her father died, _she _was supposed to be the ruler to the warriors. How could she do that if she were amongst the cold and the trees on the other side of the realm?

"Princess Merlynn!" Freya, one of her handmaiden's, shouted as she hurried over. "You missed the arrival of the Camelot soldiers!"

Merlynn shrugged. "Oops," she said aloofly. Her friend grinned and nudged her arm softly.

"Your father had me search for you. You must come _now." _

Isolde shoved her in the direction of the girl. "Go. Can't keep your father waiting, now can we?"

She wanted a relationship like Isolde and her husband, Tristan - he was the hand to the king, and one of her father's most loyal companions. They were positively perfect for each other and, to her belief, had the sweetest relationship in the world. Merlynn could be honest with herself if she said that she was jealous of them; they got to choose their life, their choices. They were not forced together. She sighed as she let Freya lead her to her bedchamber and wash and change her into a silk gown to meet her visitors. It was the color of the great sky above them, with a silver band around her wrist and waist. Her hair was rid of the dirt and mud, then brushed of all knots.

Merlynn smiled toward Freya, who had been her friend since they were young babes, and said, "You may leave me now. I'll get Isolde to accompany me."

Isolde was from the east, but abandoned her family in order to escape marriage to a noble. She then travelled into Quohran territory, and was almost killed by a nomad blood tribe, but was sent to Vamos and fell in love with Tristan. This was before she was even born. The young princess left her bedchamber and met with the female guard, who smirked, as though reading her thoughts.

"You look lovely, princess." The term princess was considered a mocking nickname, instead of being an acknowledgement of her true title or a term of endearment. Merlynn hated being called 'princess' - why, she was no princess, but a _warrior. _

"Sh, you. I don't need your opinion," she replied whole-heartedly. "I haven't even met him, and I already hate him."

"That's a great way to start a relationship," Isolde remarked. "Besides, you'll be meeting his son."

"His son who is older than me. I am marrying an old man, Isolde. Do you _know _how horrid that is? He's the same age, if not older, than father!" she snapped.

"Tristan is older than I."

"Huh, yes. But not by much." Merlynn sighed. "It doesn't even matter now. You got to choose, got to fall in love with Tristan; I've been forced into this marriage. I hate it. You know, if father had made me marry someone else, like a fellow Quohran, I would have been happy because I got to stay here, with my people. But, of course not; I'll go to a kingdom I'm unfamiliar with, in cold weather and thick dresses - I'll hate it. I don't want to leave," she mumbled, feeling tears sting at her eyes.

"Don't cry, Merlynn. You know how I hate you crying." Isolde kissed her temple. "Who knows? You may fall in love with the king in time, or perhaps even enjoy Camelot. And you'll get to return to Quohra, whenever you want, I'm sure."

"Ha! That's laughable," Merlynn muttered bitterly.

"...when can we leave, Lance? I hate it here! It's so hot, and the people are just... they're not that bad, admittedly, but I just want to go home. Can't we just meet the princess, get her horse ready, and leave?" she heard a voice whine in the distance. Merlynn walked toward the open courtyard curiously to see a blonde man talking to a dark-haired man - they both wore chain-mail. Camelot knights.

"Sire, it's a disgrace upon the Quohran people if you do not explore their city. We just need to stay for a couple more days, then we can return to Camelot," the dark-haired man consoled.

The blond must have been the prince, her step-son-to-be. Prince... _Arthur? _Already she found herself loathing him. Not only because he was older than her and the age difference would irritate them both to know end, but also because he was disrespecting her kind, her _kingdom. _He was arrogant, rude and she wanted to clobber him. However, she made her way over to them with the fakest smile she could muster. Isolde cleared her throat to capture their attention. The two men turned - the foreign-looking one bowed respectfully, and then the arrogant one did to, one moment later out of realisation.

"_Kaltxì. Hash yer dothrae chek?" _she said coolly.

Isolde sent her an odd look, while the prince simply sighed. His new mother did not speak a word of English. And, to make matters worse, she was no older than seventeen at the most. Momentarily, however, he was thrown away by her beauty. Skin that golden was uncommon in Camelot, for the sun was scarce and did not blaze as bright as it did there in Quohra. Her blue eyes were luminescent against her warm honey flesh, while her inky dark hair were in many curls around her face and down her back. Her dress fit her well and revealed to him her youthful and generous curves - his father wouldn't want to know what to do with himself.

"Um. I'm Arthur; you must be Princess Merlynn?" he guessed.

"_Srane," _she answered.

"I don't speak you language, I apologize," Arthur said, with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"I am Isolde, the lady's guard and translator. She said 'yes', if you were wondering. She also asked how you were," the blonde woman to her left nudged her shoulder.

He nodded; that would be annoying, if Isolde had to be around them every single moment to translate the messages passed between them. His father would probably have the woman killed. "Yes, I am well. And herself?" She muttered a few words in their Quohran language, before the princess returned them, a smile on her face, eyes never leaving his.

"She said she is... glad to meet you, my lord, and that she cannot _wait _to see your fine city," she told him. "Also that she wants you to explore the city a bit."

"Would she like to accompany me?" he asked, hoping she'd say no.

After a moment, Isolde translated a denial much to his relief. "She will be busy today, but there will always be time to spend together before your departure back home to Camelot."

"Oh. Well, myself and my friend here will go through the city tomorrow - now, we must rest and eat. It has been a long month of riding."

They conversed privately for a while, with a constant repetition of the word "_chiftik", _which he didn't understand, but was curious as to what it meant, before the blonde woman returned her attention back to Arthur. "Dinner will start in fifteen minutes. It will give you time to wash up and be ready - servants will go to your chambers when it is time and escort you there. Good=day, sire." Isolde bowed, and almost tore Princess Merlynn's arm toward her.

"Good-day, Isolde. Princess Merlynn," Arthur returned.

"_Hadjas, chiftik," _Merlynn said her farewells with a smile before following her guard off.

When they were away from the prying ears of the prince, Isolde whirled on the dark-haired woman and almost shoved her against the wall. "What is with you?"

"Isolde, he disrespected my kingdom! I will _not _stand for such a thing," she retorted simply. "If he is rude to my people, then I shall give him the same treatment."

* * *

_So, what'd y'all think? I _know _it was a late update but things have been hectic these past few days and... yeah. _

_Merlynn and Arthur have finally met - you like, or don't like where this is going? _

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter; hope this one is more promising and interesting than the last!_

**Sherlockedholmes: **thank you and I'm _so sorry _for not updating sooner! It was ridiculous over the past week or so, so I was just... out of it. But, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And yes, haha, father vs. son may happen. Wink _wink, _nudge _nudge. _

**Lyanna: **No, it's perfectly fine and it was understandable and written well! And, thank you :) xx

**Scribbler95: **:3 aww, thanks!

**Uzume-hime: **You're a _fan _of my stuff? That makes me sound like I'm actually good, or... you know, have some sort of importance! Ahahah, it's amazing that you love how I write, and what I write... it's beyond amazing, actually!

**GrapefruitRed: **They're my otp. Can you make your own creation an otp? Who knows, meh.

_Hope you _all _enjoyed the chapter and review! _


	3. Chapter 3: The Marketplace

_I'm unsure if this is written well or not... but you can be the judge of that! :D So, did you guys enjoy last chapter? I sure hope so. _

_I don't really have un uploading schedule; it's just, whenever I can - I guess. _

* * *

**CHAPTER 3 - THE MARKETPLACE. **

Merlynn, when she first decided to speak in the Quohran language to Arthur to throw him off, thought that it was a brilliant plan. However, when she began to realize that, now, she would have to continue this facade at dinner later that evening (in the presence of her father, no doubt), she mentally slapped herself upside the head. It was a stupid move, admittedly; she was absolutely seething, and had reacted as so. Despite how amusing it had been to see the shock and annoyance on the _chiftik_'s face, she would have to face her father, who she knew would not play along.

Dinner was a masterful thing to behold. Jaguar meat, fishes from the river systems that looped around the whole of Quohra, some fermented mare's milk and sweet wine, fruit from Blacktree Forest and goat cheese were scattered across the wide u-shaped table for the feast.

Balinor noted the surprised look on Arthur's face as they took their seats and chuckled. "Did you expect something different? Perhaps savages tearing meat from a spit with their teeth, sitting around a fire?"

"I - I don't know what I expected, to be honest, your grace," he responded with a nervous smile, suddenly noticing the princess and immediately stiffening. How could someone who spoke perfect English take care of a _child _who didn't? It was beyond him!

The king turned his gaze to his daughter and smiled fondly. Her brother, his youngest and quietest child, sat next to her, his eyes locked on the plate and a frown etched permanently in his innocent features. He did not comment on his sullen behavior, and instead returned his focus onto Merlynn. "Have you introduced yourself to Arthur already, child?"

"_Srane," _she answered.

Balinor furrowed his brow at the response in Quohran, but widened his arms and glanced at the entire table. "Enjoy the feast!"

It was set in the hall, but the doors were wide open to accommodate everyone. Dancers and performers did their jobs all around the feast for entertainment. Arthur was actually beginning to enjoy himself amongst the commotion, but stuck near Balinor at the head of the room.

"What does _'chiftik' _mean, if I am not too bold to ask?" he questioned.

The king's eyes widened and he turned to him. "Why do you ask?"

"Your daughter called me by that name - I was unsure as to what it meant," he explained with a shrug.

He sighed, then cupped his hands over his mouth and called, "_Gizikhven ohara!" _(Sweet daughter)

Merlynn abruptly stopped her conversation with a dark-haired woman and hurried over to her father, a look of complete innocence on her face. "_Ai, sempul?" _(Yes, father?)

"_Nga hakelat chiftik?" _(You called him a prat?) he asked with a warning tone in his voice. To call a man a prat was, by all standards, insulting him a wide, varied selection of ways; an idiot, a _cricket _(another 'endearing' term in his community), a worthless creature... The list went on. Balinor knew that Arthur knew what a 'prat' was, as it was used in his kingdom just as much.

She snickered. "_Srane."_(Yes.)

"Speak English, child." Balinor turned to the prince, an apologetic expression on his face. "I'm sorry about my daughter, Arthur. It seems she's being as stubborn as her mother once was - she can speak your language, but she prefers not to. Why is that, Merlynn?"

"Because he's a clotpole," she snapped.

"A what?" both men exclaimed in confusion. The king looked like he was about to clobber her, what with the sharp look of anger and disappointment he sent her. It was a war they were trying to _end, _not start again with her crude behavior.

"A clotpole. He was rude to our kingdom, father. I hate him. I don't want to marry his disgusting father, either." He could see tears well up in her eyes, and a few spilled down her red cheeks. "Why do you hate me so?" With that, she stormed off in a hurry, abandoning the hall and disappearing from view.

Balinor sighed deeply. "Once again, I am sorry. Sometimes I think she is secretly a dragon," he chuckled with a sad, bitter note to his voice.

"Where did she go?" he asked curiously.

"Probably off to change - then, she'll either go off away from the city, or release her frustration with her weapons," he answered with a shrug.

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"Sometimes, yes. But she can defend herself more than I ever could. Arthur, she is a _lot _of work. She's been a fighter since she left her mother's womb," Balinor told him. "If your father thought that he would be marrying a sophisticated, elegant woman who sat by his side with a gown on and didn't speak a word than he was mistaken. She will defy him if she doesn't like what he's about to do, or say; she is a _warrior, _just like her parents."

"I can see that," he sighed.

**[][][][][][]**

Merlynn found her comfort in the cool breeze of the night. The warmth of the air and the chill of the wind brushed over her skin, and she loved it; nothing could compare to Quohra - nothing. How could she leave the only place she had ever loved, the place she grew up in; her home? Then, to interrupt the silence that she had drawn herself into, she heard footsteps approach her place on the fench and she growled in annoyance.

Father, I do not wish to -" she whirled around, and instead found herself staring at her best friend. "Oh. Sorry, Gwaine. I don't want to speak to _you _either."

"Well you're stuck with me," he shrugged. Gwaine jumped up onto the fence beside her. He had followed Merlynn into the training courtyard, knowing that she would retreat there, as she had numerous times whenever she was angry, or upset. "What's got you so mad?"

"Didn't you see it? The arrogant asshole was disrespecting our land - he deserved it. I hate him!" Merlynn hissed.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her close, so her head was hooked under his chin. "This isn't my place to say, but I don't think you can get yourself out of this one, princess. You know that soldiers from other kingdoms have come here in an attempt to steal our lands, and we fought them off just fine, but who knows how long we can last without support from others."

"All we need is our men, our warriors - nothing can defeat us. We also have the dragons on our side," she pointed out.

"If the dragons decide that we're worth fighting for. They've hidden themselves in the Fire Islands for so long; what if they no longer care? Besides, we haven't _seen _a dragon in eight years, Merlynn. Who knows if they're still alive?"

"I do. If they died, Quothra would perish with them."

"We'll never know," he tried to direct the conversation away from the topic of dragons. Dragons had always been a sensitive topic for Merlynn; she was passionate about the subject, and never failed on talking for hours about them if someone didn't interrupt. "Anyway, you'll want to get back now, eh? Your father will be worried about you."

"I don't care. He knows what I'm like." Merlynn left his arms and stood. "But, I'll need to say goodnight to Mordred. He's been upset lately. Thank you, Gwaine. You're a good friend." She kissed his cheek.

"The best!" he added with a wink.

**[][][][][][]**

Mordred was never really a _happy _child. He rarely smiled but, when he did, it was one of the greatest sights in the world. At least, in Merlynn's mind. She made it one of her missions in life to make him smile, and never failed to. He deserved it - she never did understand why he refused to smile, but one day there would never be a time where he wouldn't smile. She swore to that. Gently, she knocked on his door and entered before he could deny her. He was laying on his too-large bed, eyes on the ceiling; he was already in his silk pajamas.

"What do you want?" he grumbled.

"To see you. We haven't spoken in what feels like forever, brother, and you always seem so sad," she replied, taking a seat on the bed beside him. "So, I want to talk. Me and you, just like old times."

"When our mother was alive," Mordred spat.

Oh... she avered her eyes from him. So, _that _was why he was always so unahppy. Their mother, Hunith, had passed away no more than nine years ago to a fatal illness that curdled her brain and destroyed her inner organs. Merlynn let out a sigh and drew him close, feeling his small arms squeeze her waist. She kissed his pale forehead. "Mordred, is _that _why you're always so sad? Don't be. She loved us, and she would want us to to be happy always. It's not her fault that she had to leave us. If she were here now, she would slap you silly for being in such a stupor."

He said nothing, but buried his face in her neck. "I don't want you to leave," he mumbled. "Mother left us, and now, so are you."

"I have to leave, but I won't be gone long. I'll come and visit whenever I can, you _know _that," Merlynn told him.

"But you don't love that old man." For someone who was only twelve years of age, his intelligence exceeded that of father's oldest advisers.

"I know, but perhaps in time I will grow to care for him." That was entirely false, but she had to reassure him somewhat that she would be happy when she left Vamos. "Don't worry about me, Mordred. I'll be fine."

"I could come with you," he suggested, sitting up. His blue eyes that mirrored hers were lit up excitedly. "I can help fight that horrid king off and - and help you, and -"

"Mordred, no!" she laughed, hugging him tight. "You are sweet, but your place is here with father. He'll need someone to keep him company. I'm already stealing a few people already." Merlynn tweaked his nose. "I love you, brother, but you need to smile more. Dragons only respond to the brightest of smiles."

His smile widened - Hunith used to tell them stories when they were younger of the dragons, and to keep Mordred happy she used to say the exact same thing. Merlynn kissed his head once more and said her farewells before heading to her own chamber for the night.

**[][][][][][]**

**MORNING. **

Freya dressed her in breeches, boots and a strapped top when she was able to force her out of bed that morning. It was Merlynn's favourite outfit; it gave her the ability to be quick in battle (if it was needed), flexible and didn't conceal any heat. The top was made of leather and animal furs, and revealed a great deal of her stomach. This would be one of the last times she could probably wear it, so she reveled in the feel of the material against her already warm skin. She said her thanks to her handmaiden, then headed down to the courtyard to leave the castle and go wandering through the marketplace to explore.

When she reached the main courtyard, Merlynn noticed two of the Camelot travelers chatting beneath the sunlight - one was a woman with dark hair and pale skin, while the other was much darker in skin tone and hair colour. The woman on the left was a much higher class, probably a noble woman. She wandered up to them, a kind, yet hesitant smile on her face.

"Hello," she greeted.

The noble one whirled around and her eyes lit up. "Oh, hi," she replied, smiling. "I'm Morgana. I absolutely _love _the way you stood up to Arthur. He deserved a right-good lesson in humility." She let out an unladylike laugh - Merlynn immediately liked her.

"I'm glad you liked it. So, what were you two planning on doing today?" she inquired.

Morgana shrugged. "I was hoping on exploring the city, but it seems that Gwen here just wants to stay here and read a bit."

"Our library is well stocked with books, for sure."

"Oh no, she just wants to see if she can snare Lancelot alone for a few minutes - she's got the biggest crush on him," the Lady giggled. Gwen blushed a cherry red.

"I - I do not."

"Don't deny it, Gwen. Go on and do that - I'll travel through the city alone."

Merlynn smiled slightly at their obvious friendship despite the differences in status, and suggested, "Why don't you just go with me? I'll be more than happy to join you."

"Really? Thank you," she gushed.

The two dark-haired women set off into the outer city. Merlynn had to admit, she was a bit excited to meet someone from Camelot that she _actually _enjoyed the company of. Perhaps she would be able to speak to her more often? She loved the look on Morgana's face when they entered the marketplace, which was always lively and festive and smelled of heaven. It was Merlynn's favourite place to be, other than the training courtyard or the library; to see that a woman from Camelot _so happy _to be among her people made her smile.

"I was wondering if you could tell me where I can purchase those dresses that the ladies have inside the castle?" Morgana asked, bashful as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Ha. You enjoyed them? Yes, they are rather beautiful. We have collections from all over Quohra; traders seem to come here most often in order to make a few coin and gain supplies for their tribes. Some are gifted to me, so I do not know where you could purchase the gowns, I apologize. _But, _it seems that there is a lot of activity in the market today, so perhaps there are a few for sale. You could always take some of mine; I have loads that I _never _wear," Merlynn offered with a sweet smile.

Morgana began to notice that, whenever they passed a person (which was often), they would mutter toward the princess. She was sure they would say _Zhey erinak, _but she was not familiar with the language and had no idea what it meant, or if she even heard them correctly. Their language was, in her opinion, raw and powerful, but held nothing short of respect when they bowed and smiled toward Merlynn. She thought of asking Merlynn, when they returned to Camelot, to teach her a few words.

"What are they saying?" she questioned. "If I'm not too bold to ask."

"They simply say 'my lady'," Merlynn responded. "I don't like it, because I do not deserve such titles, but I take them kindly. We are all equals in Quohra; everyone is a king, a princess, a warrior...we are all the same, at least, to me."

"That is rather sweet," she commented with a small laugh.

She blushed. "I am a romantic at heart, I must admit." Suddenly, she took Morgana's hand. "Come. I want you to see something." Merlynn took off, dragging the other girl behind her through the gaps of tents and many people, watching as they moved out of the way quickly at the sight of their princess rushing toward them.

She stopped at a few stalls and forced her to eat exotic fruits that she had never tasted before, treats that were unfamiliar yet unbelievably welcoming to her palate. Morgana enjoyed her time with the princess; she bought jewelry, gowns, slippers and other foreign things that she just had to have. Merlynn had a servant carry her purchased items and told her to take them back to her chambers, then forced her further into the outer city. There, she saw Arthur, who was talking to a handsome man, and the prince was actually laughing.

"Who is that?" she asked.

Merlynn grinned. "That's Gwaine. He's my closest friend - almost like a brother to me." Morgana's gaze lingered on him, which the princess noted, and grinned with a mischievous look in her eye. "Does someone like what they see? He is not spoken for, if you're wondering."

A pink tinge appeared on the lady's cheeks. "Oh, I - I think you're thinking too far ahead of yourself, princess."

"Don't call me princess, please. I hate it," she rolled her eyes, running her fingers through her dark hair, mindful of the braids threaded through by Freya.

They had stopped in the middle of the city, where troubadours and dancers were performing in the wide open space. The scantily-clad women dragged passerby's into their exotic, playful dance, grabbing the odd hand and twirling them in. Handsome male dancers did the very same to the ladies of the crowd especially, making them giggly and gush over their oiled chest. Merlynn accepted the tug from a hand of one of the female dancers, spinning in a circle under her arm and joining in on the joyous dance. She looked so carefree and happy amongst her people, dancing alongside them. She took hold on a child's hand and jumped around, making him giggle and twirl with glee.

Arthur watched the whole scene with a curl of his lip. He couldn't _believe _his father was to be married to a _girl _who danced on the street like some sort of gypsy. She bounced on each foot then twirled on one, her hair almost like a black silk curtain behind her. Merlynn lifted the child she was dancing with in her arms and spun him as though she had known him longer than a few minutes; the boy squealed, but threw his head back and laughed madly. He then rushed to his mother when he was set on his feet, leaving her in the company of the other dancing bodies. She did not care, and instead continued to twirl in the circle created by the many participants of the musical fiesta, interlocking hands with women and men alike to close it tight.

Around them, the people began to clap and cheer along with the hypnotizing harmonies created by the musical instruments that were being played by the troubadours. Beside him, Gwaine was joining in on the cheer and merriment, and nudged the other man who he'd only met that morning.

"Come on. Clap."

"I do not wish to," he sniffed.

"Mate, when your father marries Merlynn," he spat the sentence out like it was bitter poison, "they'll be your people, too."

Merlynn ran over to them and grabbed the man's hand. "Come dance with me, Gwaine!" she grinned and tugged him out into the madness.

Arthur watched with curious eyes as the two danced together. The man grasped his future step-mother by the waist and spun her in the air; he watched as she threw her head back with such carefree nature that it surprised him, as he had seen her nothing more than a prude. When her feet returned to the ground, Merlynn began to move her hips in the most scandalous of ways, drawing his eyes to the movement without conscious thought. The top she wore, created out of leather and fur, and the low cut of her breeches revealed her hipbones and gave him full view of her bare skin as she swung her hips back and forth. He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes to his closest female friend, who watched the scene with bright, excited eyes, not without longing to be apart of it.

He strolled over to her and sighed. "Are you enjoying this?"

She nodded. "Yes! I wish we had more festivals in Camelot. Perhaps when Merlynn becomes queen she can devise some; everyone is so close, and it seems like so much fun," she exclaimed gleefully.

"You forget that these people are still barbarians, Morgana."

"Barbarians or no, I'm deciding whether or not I prefer their company over yours," Morgana retorted with a sharp look in her eyes. Already, she was defending them! Arthur was slightly surprised. "You should learn to respect these people - they deserve it. All they care about is their people, and their land - not the ownership of it, but the maintenance of it. You know this as well as I that if the war had continued they would have defeated us in the end, Arthur."

"That's not -"

"It is completely true, and even your father knows it. That's why he called off the war in the first place! For fear that he would lose. Which, even I can admit, we would have. They are stronger than us, they have more warriors - they are _better. _Now, get over your petty dislike of them, because you're only acting like a child, and realize how wonderful these people are, and that they will become part of Camelot soon enough," she told him, her voice stern. Then, with a flourish of her silk gown, she turned and returned to the castle.

Merlynn walked over to the solemn Arthur with an uneven breath but a wide smile gracing her features. "Where did Morgana go of to?"

"She returned to the castle," he answered shortly.

She frowned, "Oh. Did I offend her by leaving to dance?"

"No. It seems she is upset with me, so she left," Arthur explained.

"So you were a prat again, I see," she commented.

"How dare you? You don't know me at all, and yet you have the gall -"

"Isn't that being a bit hypocritical? You don't know my people, and yet _you _have the gall to judge us, to call us savages and barbarians and do not even _try _to see us for what we really are - people. People with hope, people who defend the land that was graced to us by the gods, people who fight and love and bleed just like you!" she snapped at him. The music abruptly stopped, and they found themselves being stared at by the people who were just moments ago dancing. "Do not be cross with me about _judging _you without knowing you, for you do the same. But not just to me, but to my entire kingdom. How dare _you, _Arthur Pendragon!"

Arthur's eyes lowered the moment she retorted him, and now his cheeks were red hot in embarrassment. He could feel a hundred eyes on him, judgemental and hated. He was humiliated in front of half the population of Vamos, but Merlynn didn't seem to care. The men, the warriors around them, brandished their weapons and stood to attention, awaiting a word from their princess. He did not doubt they would kill him with just a raise of her brow. He glanced up at her face; her chin was jutted out, eyes almost black they had darkened so much out of her anger, filled with frustration and disappointment. The air around her seemed to vibrate with her fury and the hairs on his arms raised in response to it. He even stepped back a few paces.

He hated disappointing others. It was one of the things Arthur strived _not _to do. To disappoint his father was awful but, for some reason, to see it in her eyes made him feel much worse. "I -"

"Don't. Just...don't. I am sick of you; if you would just _open your eyes _and see this city, the people, the land, you would see how magnificent this place truly is and perhaps even grow to enjoy it before we depart to your land. I will show your kingdom respect when I arrive - the least you could do is try and do the same for mine," she spat.

She jammed her shoulder into his as she stormed off further out of the city, disappearing in a sea of angry Quohrans. Arthur felt terrible. But, without a single word, he returned to the castle with his head hung low.

* * *

_So... new chapter!_

_palmtree219: _Um, no. What I did though was, in order to get the language correct, I intergrated the Na'vi words and the Dothraki language to meld it into one _whole _language. It would be easier and more real - looking.

_cheekysorcerer: _I love your name, by the way :) haha. I hoped you enjoyed the chapter!

_xXMistressMadHatterXx: _Me thinks Morgana and Merlynn are gonna be super close XD I'm unsure about Lancelot and Merlynn's relationship _just yet, _but it will come... soon, I hope. Haha.

_Dragongirl Enna: _Haha, I'm glad you like my writing style, and the way I chose to go :P x

_DoomedUnicorn: _Why are my reader's names so cool? I have an unhealthy love for my interpretation of a female Merlynn and I'm glad you love her too! :D

_Lady Blade WarAngel: _Hahahahahah, yes, yes I am.

_Um, hopefully... the next chapter will be up _soon. _But I'm not sure yet :D Hope you enjoyed the chapter and hope you keep reading. This is the first really original story I've tried to do, so let's hope I don't screw it up :/ _


	4. Chapter 4: Confrontation

_Sorry about this late update, but it's here now! Read and Review, yeah? You know the drill! _

* * *

**CHAPTER 4 - CONFRONTATION.**

Arthur decided that, after the embarrassing moment in the market, he would sulk alone - which he was accustomed to doing after an argument with his father. He couldn't _believe _a child's words effected him the way they did. Well, she was not exactly a child, but she was younger than him and thus he declared her a 'child'. It was even worse that she would soon be considered his 'step-mother', and his queen. He sighed, and dragged his hand down his warm face; he felt awful, more of a child than he thought of Merlynn. As he mulled it over, he heard a presence behind him, and slumped his shoulders.

"I wish to be al - oh," he turned and made eye contact with his dearest friend.

"Oh brother," Lancelot chuckled slightly. "You've put yourself in a bit of a pickle, haven't you?" He remained silent, not answering to the small smirk of his companion. "Heard all about it. Seems Vamos gossips just as much as Camelot does."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That's wonderful for them," he bit out sarcastically. "I... I didn't mean to insult them."

"You did. Of course, it was just your belief and your stubborn attitude, but you did take it a bit out of proportion." Lancelot, he reluctantly agreed, knew what he was talking about, and always knew exactly what to do, or say, to pull him out of his dark place.

"What do I do, then?"

"I suggest -"

"Hello, Prince Arthur," a small boy with dark hair, and even darker skin, interuppted. He bowed his head in respect to both of them, but only addressed the prince - as required of him by his king. "The king wishes to speak to you in the council room. He would also like for you to bring the peace treaty."

Arthur clenched his jaw in slight frustration but, at the look in his companion's eyes, sighed and nodded. "I'll be right with you," he replied.

"No, my lord. He asked me to stay with you and take you to the council chamber," the boy said.

"...Fine."

He turned to Lancelot, hoping he would say something, _anything,_ but all he got was: "We'll talk later."

Arthur grabbed the peace treaty from his chambers and followed the boy through the ancient, vast halls of the castle. Despite his earlier arrogance about how barbaric the place was, the castle of Vamos _was _a rather marvelous building, unlike anything he had ever seen before. He could tell there was a history within those walls and he was intriqued. The hallways he was walking through surrounded a large courtyard which flourished with an abundance of flowers and small trees of different hues and aromas. It gave him a sense of peace as he passed it.

Finally, they reached the council room and he paused to see the squire knock at the door.

"Yes?" Balinor's voice seeped through.

"S - sire, the prince has arrived," the boy called nervously.

"Ah! Bring him in."

Balinor was seated at the end of the table, various pages of parchment scattered across the table. He smiled warmly when he caught sight of the young prince, and welcomed him inside. "You may leave now, Gregor." The squire closed the door behind him. "How are you, Arthur?"

"I have had better days, to be honest, sire," Arthur took a seat across from the king, placing the peace treaty onto the table between them.

"What has happened?" he looked a bit concerned - the thing that took him by surprise was that the concern was for _him. _

"It seems I have made too many people upset with me today," he admitted. "I have not showed your city any respect over the past two days, and for that I am eternally sorry. I was brought up to believe that this land is full of savages and cannibals and beasts of another nature - when I came here and saw that it was more developed, I just couldn't believe it. I was unable to see it as anything other than what had been branded into my expectations. And for that, I am sorry."

"That is alright, son," Balinor smiled. "Too many rumors have been passed along about the people here, and we have grown to accept them. To admit, there are some who have turned into them to spite others, men who have transformed into ruthless killing machines." His mouth became set into a thin line. "I know men who go into villages to the east and rape and murder, but that is only a small percent. The rest of us, we hope, and we fight to be more than that." For the first time, Arthur saw him as an old, worried man who had lived a long life of pain, and suffering. "Have I done the wrong thing in giving my daughter to your father? It seems as though she hates me."

"Sometimes I feel like I hate my father, but I know that I do not," Arthur consoled him. "I will never stop loving my father and, from what I can see, she cares a great deal about you. And as for her marriage to my king, I think this is a good transaction. I have always believed one should marry for love, but given the chance, if it meant that my kingdom would be saved, then I would marry for that purpose."

"Will he treat her well?"

He hesitated for a moment. Arthur had never seen his father in the company of women, so he didn't know how he treated the opposite sex. "I - I - my father has made some terrible choices in his life, but I know that he is not a man to raise his hand to a woman. I have never seen it; I didn't get the chance to see him with my mother, but from what I've heard from the court physician, they were very happy together. I believe that my father will treat your daughter well, Balinor. He is not a cruel man."

Though, as he spoke those words, he doubted them. He had no idea how his father responded to women, and he certainly didn't want to know how he would react to the enigma that was Merlynn. Arthur rubbed nervously at the back of his neck and cleaned his clammy palms on the material covering his thighs. He knew that Balinor was a good man, who did the best he could to provide love to his children who were introduced to a world of blood and violence. Merlynn was much younger than Arthur, and was not even considered a woman yet - she was only a girl.

Balinor unrolled the treaty and spread it out across the table, fingering the edge of the parchment. "I love my children more than anything else. After Hunith died..." he sighed shakily, running his fingers through his thick hair. "I - I would have given up the kingdom to see her smile again. When she died, I thought Merlynn wasn't going to cope, then she just _changed. _She was still the same spit-fire, but she became taller, stronger, less, well, less like the child that she still is. Sometimes I forget that she's only a _girl, _a baby. And now I'm giving her to a man who is my age." He laughed bitterly. "Hunith would've slapped me silly. She always believed that her children were to be married to the people they wanted to, not for the kingdom."

"Smart woman," Arthur remarked.

"Yes. That's where Merlynn gets her spark," he said. "Mordred... he depends on Merlynn more than many realize. What will he do when she is gone? I fear the consequences of my actions. Merlynn does not tread lightly; she is bold, and she is a dragon at heart. Every movement has it's purpose. She will rule well, but she is reckless just like a warrior. I do not know how she will cope in Camelot."

"She has befriended Morgana well enough," he told the king. "She will keep Merlynn grounded, I'm sure. Keep her safe."

"Hm. I wonder how she will react to the limitations and consequences for her actions? Camelot is so different from Quohra."

"How do you know?" Arthur questioned.

"Have you seen what you wear, how you act, compared to us? Besides, I have ventured into Camelot once or twice as a boy," he admitted.

His interest peaked. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. But that is another story for another time, my boy. You must be tired. I think you should apologize to your father's ward and my daughter, though. Merlynn can exct revenge like no other, but I'm not too sure about the Lady Morgana," Balinor said with a small smile.

"She's a woman to be reckoned with, I assure you," Arthur confessed, his smile tight and slightly nervous.

"It has been wonderful having this chat. Truly. You are a good man, Arthur Pendragon, and I hope to see you on the throne like the proud king you will become."

He was touched by the honesty and emotion in the older man's voice. He barely knew him, and yet he was speaking to him as though a close companion or an old friend - those Emrys seemed to have that effect on him, he realized, as he made his way toward Morgana's chambers. Arthur apologized to her and, with a few quick, honest words, she had forgiven him for his awful behaviour and treatment toward the Quohra. Now, he stood before princess Merlynn's chambers, and his breath seemed to leave him. He wanted her to like him; while she was only sixteen, seventeen years of age, she was to be his mother and he didn't want her to hate him. His father would be furious with him, and he didn't want her to feel vengeful against him.

Who knows what she could do?

He knocked on the door three times.

"Freya, please open the door to our visitor," the voice of his future mother whispered through the door.

A pretty handmaiden with oil black hair and murky blue eyes opened the large door, and bowed in his presence. "My lady, it is Prince Arthur," she called back.

"Invite him in."

"But, my lady -"

"_Freya." _Her voice was not unkind, but it held a stern note that made Freya sigh slightly begrudgingly and usher him inside.

He then understood why the handmaiden did not wish for him to enter the bedchamber, for he was caught with a sight that made his mouth go dry. Merlynn wore a chemise - if one could call it that - that was made out of a sheer material, almost completely transparent and a silhouette for her lean physique. Now that he saw her in the true form, he saw what he did not earlier that day. He saw her legs were much paler than her face and arms, as they were least likely to be in the scorching eye of the sun. Scars, is what he saw - imperfections to an otherwise perfect form. They were all over her; he never noticed them on her arms, unlike now, when they gleamed brightly like a candle in the dark. But, he did not feel repulsed by the sight of her scars, like her eyes challenged him to, instead he was curious.

He had an urge to trail his fingers over each scar and figure out their history, so hard that it made his fingers ache, but he muffled it as best he could and tried to divert her eyes to her splendorous figure. "P - Princess," he cleared his throat.

Her smile was wicked, and slightly amused. She could see it in his eyes that he was studying her but, to his relief, did not mention it or kick him in the groin. Instead, she nodded solemnly and said, "You obviously came to speak to me, or did you just come to ogle?"

Drat. He flushed a cherry red. "No - No, of course not. I do not _ogle." _She snorted and rolled her eyes. "I came here to apologize, princess. I judged you and your people unfairly before I even tried to introduce myself, or get to know them. I am aware of my actions, and I am most humbly sorry. Whatever offense I caused, to you, or the rest of the people of Quohra, I take my punishment accordingly."

"Really? Well, the Malasi tribe would take your head, stick it on a pike and then run around in circles on their stallions for hours on end while your blood became a fine wine to their celebrations," she told him coolly, an eyebrow cocked. Arthur's brows rose up into his hairline. "But, here in Vamos, we do not kill, unless we are in danger of being killed ourselves. I forgive you, Arthur, as long as you take the chance to get to know the Quohra. They were so eager to meet you, and yet you show such disrespect to them - I'll have to go down and apologize prior to your arrival. They're not the most forgiving of folk if they are deeply burned by others."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. The more you do it, the falser it becomes," she scoffed.

Arthur nodded and abruptly stopped. His eyes could not leave her lean figure, no matter how hard he tried to. He swallowed deeply, and said, "I'll be off now, my lady."

"Merlynn. My name is Merlynn, and I like being called it," she replied.

"O - Alright. Goodnight, Merlynn."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

[][][][][][]

Freya chased Merlynn around her bedchamber, brush in hand and an expression of annoyance on her face. The princess was holding on to her long, tangled hair, shouting out her indignation as she was running from her handmaiden. She was only eighteen, but she felt like an old mother, racing after her daughter who just couldn't seem to follow the rules; this was a normal ritual for the two of them, and she was slightly sick of it. Freya tried to blindside her and halt her childish behavior, but she failed over and over again as the princess jumped out of the way.

"Princess, please! This has _got to stop!" _she exclaimed in frustration.

Merlynn snickered a bit and spun out of the way of the handmaiden. "It will only stop once you catch me," she called back with an amused smile.

"The king of Camelot will _not _be impressed if you do this in his kingdom," Freya retorted, trying to get the girl to see some sort of sense in her attitude.

"So? If he doesn't like it, then he can get used to it!"

Then, the princess burst open her bedchamber door and raced out into hall. It was the last thing Freya wanted, and groaned in annoyance. Pausing momentarily to catch her breath, she gazed at the door; she was glad that she was paid handsomely for the services she did, because handling a hyper Merlynn was not something she enjoyed. Well, at first it was amusing, but then it soon got to the point where she wanted to tear her hair from the roots. The handmaiden ran out after the princess, brush forgotten and, instead, she just focused on stopping the childish girl. Merlynn was still in her nightwear, for Gods' sake!

Many of the high nobles of Vamos were wandering through the halls, and she wasn't sure whether she was glad or horrified when they pointed her in the princess' direction. But, she thanked them and chased her through corridors, taking small shortcuts and doing whatever she could to catch up with the future queen of Camelot. It was ridiculous, having a girl who acted like a child on the best of days becoming the next queen of a kingdom she had never been too before. Freya was happy where she was; if she was unwilling to leave, uncomfortable with the aspect of _leaving _her home, she could only imagine how Merlynn was feeling.

"Princess!" she shouted. "Come now, this is enough! Please... just stop."

"Sorry," a voice said from behind her, and she just about jumped ten feet in the air in surprise. Freya whirled around to see the princess herself standing there, unflinching in her night wear with a smile on her face, amusement twinkling in her cerulean gaze. "I was just having a bit of fun."

She could not help but smile a little. Merlynn always found her way back into her heart even after the most annoying of moments - it was one of the reasons she loathed her sometimes. "Fine. But _come on, _we have to get back to your chambers. We'll be heading to Camelot soon, in only a few days; we have things to prepare, things to _do." _Freya took her arm and began to drag her off in the direction of her bedchamber.

[][][][][][]

Mordred was the observant sort. He simply watched, rather than spoke; a silent watcher. Most gossiped and chatted idly around him, either not caring about his presence or simply forgetting he was even there. It gave him the _perfect _opportunity to learn things about the people of the court. So, when he was to walk around the courtyard and listen to the people, he picked up those who cursed his father (which, gladly, there were none), those who insulted his sister (he pranked them a few times with tricks he had learnt from Cerdan), and what was going on in society.

He felt the urge to eavesdrop especially now, due to the presence of these Northerners that had invaded his father's land. They were not welcome - they had made his sister upset and, therefore, he had no respect for any of them. Well, the ones who made her upset. That _Arthur Pendragon. _Mordred clenched his jaw, and his stride became longer, with more purpose - really, he had no purpose today. There was absolutely nothing to do; he was bored, he was _angry _at the thought of his sister leaving him alone in Quohra. Besides her, he had little friends, and all the dependence of a new ruler once his father died would weigh down on him.

He didn't want to rule. Merlynn would make a better queen than he a king.

... If Mordred didn't hate Arthur Pendragon, or his father Uther, before, he sure did now.

* * *

_So, sorry for late update again ^.^ I kinda forgot about this whole story. _

_And no, just for clarification for the above, Mordred isn't going to go all vengeful evil on Arthur. He's just an irritated pre-pubescent boy whose sister is about to leave him to go marry Arthur's father... _

_haha. _

_saroura92: _Hahaa, I know. She's like a mixture of the original fem!Merlynn, some sort of Daenerys/Arya mixture... I think. Haven't really pictured her true character.

_Michelle: _It's not as mystical and lovely as Merlin, more in the GoT catagory of darkness... I had tried to do that in the Golden Effect, and succeeded, but this is just so much better because... ya know... it's AU. Haha, thank you, by the way x

_Lady Blade WarAngel: _Uh... ooh, favourite character - Morgana, or Sansa? :/ I dunno, haha. Oh, and also, yeah... I'm super busy - _this _alone was a struggle to make out. I'm not too good at time management, nor controlling my procrastination urges, and there's so much family issues right now it's through the roof. I'm not sure when I'll have free time to do _anything, _really. I mean, this took, like, a month to bring out! x

_cheekysorcerer: _Haha, I'm glad you love it! And, ooooohhh. I. LOVE. It! :D x

_xXMistressMadHatterXx: _I think this is gonna stay strictly AU - no crossover. Merlynn shall leave Quohra soon anyhow, so... yeah. And :O how did you figure it out? You're seriously my Yoda, haha.

_Hallix: _What I thought about Arthur's 'surrender' was that... he's not in Camelot anymore, nor in an environment where he could go all 'booyah don't you dare disrespect me, bitch!' He's in an unfamiliar land, and to be called out in such a way, around people who he believed to be barbarians, who casually carry massive weapons around... Yeah, that's why he surrendered so easily. He was way out of his depth. And, yeah... I guess she can be a bit of a bitch. I'm either incorporating whatever bitchy-ness that Merlynn didn't have in The Golden Effect in this, or her character is just... bold, in a way. She's dealing with the whole marriage thing in a way that, obviously, is a bit of a 'lash-out'. Of course she's gonna give Arthur a bad time, haha - when has she _not _given Arthur a hard time, even in The Golden Effect? She's not one to simply _not _tell him he's being a dick.


	5. AN: UPDATE

**Aloha~**

**Okay, so basically... Fanfiction deleted all my work for this story. I had it stored on the site, and I'm not entirely sure if it's on my computer anymore, but that's why I haven't updated because I physically cannot remember what I freakin' had planned for this whole story. When I finally realise it, I will get back to you and _hopefully _get something up.  
**

**I'm really mad.  
**

**I've been mad about this for a while but I just haven't really had the time to write this and post it up, sigh.  
**

**Ugh.  
**

**And there was like a whole _thing _planned and everything. I had a whole GoT theme going on and everything.  
**

**Sorry guys,  
**

**Khaleesi~  
**


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